


Lifelong learning

by elareine



Series: JayTim Week 2020 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon Compliant, Flirting, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pining, Secret Identity, accidental pet acquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24492358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/pseuds/elareine
Summary: “Fuck. He’s hot,” Kelly stage-whispered.And, well. It’s not like Tim disagreed. His new groupmatewashot; tall and athletic, with eyes to drown in.He was also Jason Todd.(Five of the many times “Tommy Underwood” and Jason studied together, and one time Jason and Tim did.)
Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: JayTim Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769350
Comments: 27
Kudos: 385
Collections: JayTimWeek





	Lifelong learning

**Author's Note:**

> For day one of JayTim week: College AU.

One

All things considered, Tim had the whole university thing down well. This was his second term. Sure, balancing the vigilante life, work and school was a bit of a struggle, but he was doing okay, grade-wise. 

And now, it was time for his first Group Project. 

The assignments had been done by a random generator. Tim logged in for his class on the second day—the time slot having been designated as the time they were all supposed to meet up, complete the first designed and find a meet-up time that worked for all of them—and looked at his group. Just two people: Jason T. and Kelly T., listed just below Tommy Underwood, Tim’s alter ego. (The school had allowed him to put down a fake name on the profile to protect his privacy.) 

Out of curiosity, he looked them up on the intranet. Jason’s short description listed him as a native Gothamite, a student of Peace and Conflict Studies, and a Murakami quote: “Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it.” Tim instantly put him down as exceedingly pretentious. 

Kelly’s bio just said, ‘Recovering Catholic.’ 

Tim resigned himself to dealing with two basically-teenagers for the next month and logged into their video conference. 

A blonde girl had beaten him to it. “Hey! So I could just look at the list of participants, but I wanna guess which one you are, okay?” 

“Uh. I guess?”

She looked down at the screen critically. The camera angle made it look pretty funny. “Hmmm… so your nose says Tommy, but I’d still say Jason. Tommy Underwood feels like a fake name.” 

Tim was suddenly very, very glad he was using his facial disguise software. Tommy might be a fake name, but so was that nose. (At least they apparently matched?) “Uh, no, sorry. I’m actually Tommy.” 

“Ah,” she laughed, “guess I’m not as good at this as I thought! How’s it going?” 

“I’m good, how’re you?” 

“Same! Today, my psychology prof told me that I have some really gifted insight into the human mind, so I thought I would try it, you know?” She pondered that. “Though it’s really about the stars for me. One time my prof said that I—” 

The arrival of the last member of their group interrupted the thrilling conclusion of that story.

“Fuck. He’s hot,” Kelly stage-whispered. 

And, well. It’s not like Tim disagreed. His new groupmate _was_ hot; tall and athletic, with eyes to drown in. 

He was also Jason Todd. 

Tim squeaked and pushed his laptop off the table. 

“Shit, man, you’re okay?” Jason asked, and yeah, that was definitely _his_ Jason. Or well, not precisely his, but the one that Tim knew. _What the fuck._

Tim knew he should say something, tell Jason what was happening. Right now, right here. Hell, he could shoot him a text, even. He had Jason’s number.

“Sorry,” he said instead, awkwardly putting the laptop back into place. “That was my… cat.”

“Awww,” Jason said, at the same time Kelly asked: “Oh, can we see her?” 

“Vanished with the noise.” 

“Cats, man.” Jason nodded. Tim tried not to stare and failed miserably. At least you couldn’t tell over video. “As soon as you start a video, they’ll be there?” 

The thing was. Tim didn’t really know Jason as _Jason_. They’d never been close enough for that, even if their tenuous peace accord. Jason was a lot of things to Tim—his predecessor, a symbol, a warning, and an example. A killer. An ally, maybe, occasionally. Someone who hurt people Tim cared about, who kept doing that, and—

He wasn’t a real human being, not to Tim. 

“Speaking of videos, I dunno about you guys, but I would prefer a chat function. What would, like, work for you? Facebook?” Kelly asked. 

Tim and Jason winced in unison. “How about WhatsApp?” Jason suggested. 

She grimaced. “No, that’s too unsafe!”

Tim stared. “Isn’t it owned by—” 

“Yeah, exactly!” 

Jason visibly decided to leave that one alone. “How about Slack?” 

Again: This was _weird_ and _wrong_ and _Tim should stop this now._

“Slack’s fine,” he heard himself say. “We use it at work, too.”

“Oh, where do you work?” Kelly immediately asked. 

Tim forced his tone to something light and casual. “I’m in IT. Currently doing a project at Wayne Co., which is pretty cool.” 

Both Jason and Kelly audibly sniffed. Well, then. That told him where he could stuff that. 

“I think we should pick something, like, more ethical for our first case study,” Kelly said. 

“Like an NGO,” Jason added. 

Tim really wanted to joke about the groups that had dedicated themselves to helping Batman. Or ‘Save the bats and Bats.’ Or ‘Robin Conservation Programme.’ Instead, he had to say: “Sure, what’ve you got in mind?” 

Dammit, this was going to be difficult. 

Two

As the weeks passed, Kelly gently drifted away from the group until one day, Tim sighed and typed: _She’s not coming back, is she._

_No. I didn’t want to be the one who said it._

_She hasn’t replied to my texts in weeks. I think she’s in Cambodia._

_Gonna let the prof know then. She’s not getting a good grade out of me._

Tim grinned. Yeah, Jason wasn’t exactly the type to let other’s take credit for his work. 

Neither was Tim anymore. Damian had taught him that. 

Jason followed it up with: _You good continuing the project with just the two of us? Going to have to divide her part between us._

On some level, Tim wanted to say ‘no.’ Let them each go their own way, give up this charade. 

That would mean they would both have to join other groups, though. Tim knew Jason had already written pages and pages for their case study. His was the only part of the google doc that had seen any content added. Tim would feel so fucking guilty if Jason had to throw all of that away.

_Of course!_

_Have you started your part yet?_

Tim deflated. No. No, he hadn’t. He’d tried, but there had just been so much going on. So he’d watched the deadline creep closer with growing dread, knowing that even its imminence would do very little to persuade him to just. Do the work. 

It would take two hours. Less if he stayed focused. It was just a stupid reflection on the ethics of humanitarian aid and the meaning of the phrase ‘humanitarian,’ so he wasn’t sure why it was tripping him up so much.

_No. Sorry._

_Nah, man, I figured it’s not your thing, is it?_

_Apparently not._

_Don’t worry, everyone’s brain works differently. Me, I like putting things into order. You have sources already, yeah?_

_Yes._ Tim’s bibliography was the only thing he was proud of. He’d gone into a deep dive for that one and had emerged five hours late with seven pages worth of citations. 

_They’re AWESOME. How about you do that for all the parts? We don’t need to divide up by sections if it’s the two of us. Then I do an evaluation and summary, and we discuss our conclusions together._

That… that actually sounded doable. Tim smiled, feeling his enthusiasm return for the first time in weeks. _That sounds good. Thank you._

_You’re doing me a favor. I’m too impatient for trawling databases like you are._

And, huh. Jason probably wasn’t even lying about that. a) The notion of Jason lying to be polite was ridiculous, and b) given what Tim knew of the man, he could totally see this being true. Jason was proposing a way they could both play by their strengths in this. 

It felt like they were becoming accomplices. 

_Guess I know what I’ll be doing this weekend then._

_No hurry, I’ll start working on the concepts you already made the lists for. Always good to cover the basics first._ Tim waited, already knowing what Jason would ask next, and sure enough, here it came: _How’s your cat?_

Tim didn’t answer in words, just selecting the picture he’d taken that morning: Slugge curled up on his chest, fast asleep. The light had been kind; Sluggo didn’t look like an endless void for once. 

(Getting a black cat might’ve not been the smartest choice considering he needed the bugger explicitly for taking pictures of him, but Tim had fallen in love, okay? Sluggo was huge and old and grumpy and perfect.) 

It took a while for Jason to answer, which was weird. When Jason was on, he was _on._

Thinking he might’ve missed the buzzing—it had been known to happen—Tim checked the conversation again, and that was when he realized that he’d basically just sent Jason a picture of his naked chest. 

…at least Sluggo was covering his burn scar. And the fresh stab wound—that one had hurt to have cat lying on, actually. And the rash from the encounter with Ivy. And the—okay, yeah, he covered a pretty sizeable portion of Tim’s chest, which only left the upper part of his abdomen and his shoulders visible. His _naked_ shoulders. His abs. 

Oh, God. He’d sent Jason a thirst pic. Tim wanted to jump out of the window. Having Bruce scrape him from the parchment in front of the whole family might be less embarrassing, except Tim might survive and then he’d need to tell them _why_ and then he would have to shoot himself. 

His phone vibrated, releasing Tim from his visions of torment. 

_Cute_ was all Jason wrote. For a moment Tim was offended—his abs weren’t cute, he’d worked hard for them to be this chiseled, okay—until he remembered: Right. The cat. 

_He’s trying to choke me in my sleep, that’s not cute << _

_You look like you can take it ;)_

Aaaaaand Tim was back to panicking. This was going to be a fun semester. 

Three

Jason called on a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning while Tim was tying three wanna-be mobsters. The main problem with that was that work couldn’t serve as an excuse. 

_Can I call you back my sister’s here_

She wasn’t, and even if, Cassie wouldn’t mind. The police car that was heading toward his neat stack of criminals might. 

_Can’t concentrate with a kid there, huh?_

Well, almost.

 _She’s my age but the fam doesn’t know I’m doing this_ , he typed back. 

_Same here. How about tonight? I’m free after six._

_Sure!_

Later, it occurred to Tim that most students probably had more exciting things to look forward to on Saturday evenings that discussing a fake business plan. 

Eh. The rest of his life wasn’t exactly dull, was it? 

Jason brought the topic of family up again that evening on the phone after they’d went through the results of their prospective 

. “So you’re not telling your family, either?” 

“No.” Tim hesitated, but—who would get this but Jason? “I don’t want to be a disappointment to them if I fail again.” 

It hadn’t been _his_ fault that he’d had to drop out of school, no matter what fucking Damian thought. After that, getting his GED had felt like nothing to brag about—not even worth celebrating, honestly, seeing what else was going on at the time. And his first attempt at a bachelor’s had been made on the side, focusing entirely on programming. 

It wasn’t like anyone in this family doubted that he was smart. They just didn’t think he could do academics. 

“You’ll blow them away, then.” Jason’s voice was matter-of-fact, and Tim smiled. 

“Thanks. How about you?” 

“My family—or what’s left of it—wouldn’t care. I’m already a disappointment, ain’t no degree helping that.” 

“Fuck them, then,” Tim told him immediately, and he even meant it. 

“Heh, thanks. It doesn’t matter much anymore.” 

Tim was pretty sure that was a white lie, though he couldn’t deny the pang in his heart at the thought. It might be better for Jason if he gave up on his dreams of… whatever it was he was hoping to get from Bruce, but… surely he wouldn’t just stop caring about them like that? 

Before he could pursue that thought further, Jason said: “Must be difficult, juggling full-time work and studies like that.” 

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “One of my best friends did it for a long time, you know. It was really important to her, and I never really got it—we were both working already at the time—but… I’m starting to.” 

“Does she know you’ve enrolled?” 

“No.” Tim laughed ruefully. Steph was going to _kill_ him. “We’re also exes, and family—kinda? It’s complicated.” 

“Funny,” Jason mused, “it was also my ex who inspired me. He was big on that shit; thought that I shouldn’t ‘throw my brain away.’” 

Tim sat up straight. No one in the family knew anything about Jason’s personal life. This was the first hint that about a relationship and Tim phrased his next question carefully: “Have you told them?” 

“No, he’s dead.” 

Oooouch. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while.” 

“Still.” Tim bit his lip. He could guess who Jason was talking about and, Jesus. Talk about unexpected and violent death. With a sigh, he offered: “I know the absence doesn’t just go away.” 

Jason hummed, and for a moment, they sat silently, presumably both thinking about those they’d lost.

“That was another reason to start on my degree,” Jason finally offered. “I wanted to focus on something that didn’t remind me of him. We worked together occasionally, too.” He chuckled. “It was that or open a bakery, to be honest.” 

“You bake?” This was probably the most interesting conversation Tim had ever had. 

“Just as a hobby, but yeah. Spent some time in Germany as a—high schooler, picked it up there.” 

“That sounds amazing. I’m a _disaster_ in the kitchen.” 

“Maybe I’ll make you a cake when we pass this course.” 

Tim had no idea what to say to that. The mental image of Jason dropping off a lovingly baked German cake for him at the Batcave was… a lot. 

Luckily, Jason kept talking. “Anyway, I was thinking… My other friends know, but they’re not really the studying type. And I know you take ‘Soviet State Organisation,’ too, where we need to write all these papers. So. If you’d like, uh, we could—” 

“Be study buddies?” Tim suggested, laughter starting to bubble up. This was a far cry from ‘Be my Robin.’ 

Jason laughed, too. “Yeah. That.” 

Which—fuck. Tim wanted that. He wanted the support Jason offered, the humor, the companionship; he wanted to keep having a partner in this; and yes, he wanted to find out more about Jason, get to see this side of him. 

And why not? Jason hadn’t recognized him so far. And how would he? Tim wasn’t doing much acting when they were together, but it wasn’t like Jason had ever met the civilian Tim Drake before all of this. 

So chances were that Tim wouldn’t be discovered anytime soon. Might as well postpone the inevitable fallout when Jason figured it out, right? If he ever did. 

He smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Four

“Okay, so I looked through the information you sent me—and Jesus, by the way, where did you even get those books?” 

Tim shrugged, trying not to let his pleasure shine through his voice. “You can order stuff through the public library system.” 

“They’re in _Russian_.” 

“Yeah? NYU has a pretty big collection of these.” 

Jason sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Do you even speak Russian?” 

“Nope.” 

“They’re not transliterated, though.” 

“Yeah, well, if you only wanna learn Cyrillic, it’s not that hard.” It really wasn’t. Alphabets and grammar were never what threw Tim off, it was the actual speaking. He could probably teach himself to read those books in about half a year if he was interested enough. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to. 

“What the fuck.” And oh, that was perilously close to a giggle. “You learned Cyrillic so you could get us more sources.” 

“Well, you said you spoke Russian, right? And you’re the one always going on about how we need to incorporate different perspectives than just the American one, especially regarding the Cold War.” 

“Wait, you remember that? I thought you were about passed out at that time.” 

Yeeah. So Tim had told Jason that he was drunk when it had really been Ivy’s pollen. Whatever. 

“I wasn’t that gone!” 

“You kept telling me my eyes are pretty,” Jason chuckled. “Wait—is that why you got all these European texts, too?” 

“Yeah.” Now Tim was starting to worry that he’d gone overboard. 

“Amazing. Seriously, amazing. If I ever need a research guy, you’re hired.” 

Tim snorted, flopping over to his back. He’d started doing these calls on his bed instead of his couch or at his desk. More comfortable, easier to spread out. “Sure. So, what’d you do with it?” 

The discussion of Tim’s research and Jason’s sorting kept them busy for an hour and would’ve done so for another two if Tim’s wrist hadn’t started vibrating against his skin. When he pressed the center, a hologram of red letters appeared. Bruce must’ve used the emergency notification service they’d come up with a few months ago.

 **ALERT**. EXPLOSION AT CITY HALL. INVOLVEMENT OF SEVERAL ROGUES INCLUDING BANE AND TWO-FACE SUSPECTED, POSSIBLY A TAKEOVER. MEETING POINT BURR STREET 175. 

Tim mentally cursed. Fuck. He couldn’t ignore that, and Jason likely couldn’t either.

He waited a few seconds, but Jason just kept talking about his findings. Maybe he hadn’t seen the alert yet? Or he was afraid to spook ‘the Civilian.’ 

Urgh. Now Tim needed to give them both an out. He was about to fake getting a call before he remembered that he was on the phone with Jason right now. Ordinary people didn’t carry two phones, right? Except…

“Hang on a sec—my landline’s ringing.” 

“You got a landline?” 

“Yeah, it’s for family emergencies, so—” 

“Gotcha.” Jason immediately sounded serious. “Go and take care of it.”

Tim would’ve felt bad about the worry in Jason’s tone, but this _was_ an emergency, and he was already late. Even after changing asap and going to find his family, he was clearly the last to join them on the rooftop. Something was off when he got there (apart from the obvious), and it took him a second to see what. 

Red Hood wasn’t there. 

Right. He wouldn’t be, would he? He probably didn’t even get the alert and had really just wanted to give ‘Tommy’ space to deal with his emergency. Just because Tim had started thinking differently about Jason… didn’t mean that anyone else did. 

Did his own change of heart even apply to the Red Hood? Could it _not_? Even if Tim occasionally forgot about Jason’s alter ego these days, it was more a part of him than Red Robin was of Tim. Wasn’t it? 

Tim pushed the thought away. Right now, there were more important things to focus on. 

(Jason texted him later: _Everything okay?_ And Tim, having to use his left hand to text because the right was in a cast, had never been more glad to be able to reply _Yeah, thanks <3._) 

Five

“Hey, Tommy.” The way Jason spoke Tim’s not-name hurt somewhere deep in his chest. 

“Hi, Jay. How’s it going?” 

“I’m good.” 

Well, that was nice to hear. Tim had worried when the Red Hood hadn’t been seen in three days, and Jason hadn’t replied to any texts after telling Tim he was ‘busy.’ 

“How about you?” Jason asked. 

Tim looked at his right hand—freshly out of the cast, though it would take a lot of PT to get it functional again—and said: “I’m fine. Was nice to have a break from all that studying you make me do.” 

“Aww, you missed my face.”

“How can I, when I seldom see it?”

“Well, you’ll see it at the final of the Soviet history class, right?” Jason laughed. 

“Right.” Tim tried and failed not to sound disturbed. “Talking of which—what’s on your reading list?” 

The conversation turned away from personal things after that. However, that night, Tim thought about it. 

Three months. Three months of knowing that Jason Todd was his fellow student and not saying anything. Three months of partnering up in class, two months of partnering up for everything else—as long as it could be done on the phone. 

Tim had to admit he’d royally fucked this up. If the cat that was now curled up on his lap wasn’t proof enough for that, one only needed to take a look at his heart to see that, because the stupid thing had decided to develop _feelings._

It was just—urgh. Jason _got_ him. As Tim, not as Red Robin or Replacement or Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne. 

Except he had no idea that Tim was Tim. And he would find out soon enough. Sure, Tim could skip the final exam, maybe make up an excuse… but his place card would give him away, and anyway, Jason would only need a hint of his identity to figure him out. It was inevitable, really. 

Letting Jason find out just before the exam would be a bitch move, though. 

Biting his lip, Tim fished out his phone and texted his most frequent contact: _Hey, wanna meet up?_

To his surprise, he got an answer within two minutes. _Sure! Today?_

…which posed an interesting problem. A normal person would ask why the fuck Jason was awake at four a.m., too. But if Tim did, knowing fully well that Jason’s patrols were often longer than his, especially after he’s been out of town for a bit, well, that would just be a dick move. 

So he ignored the time and hoped Jason would chalk it up to excitement over the meeting. _That would be great._ _I’m free until eight._ After a second’s consideration, he sent another one, adding _p.m. :P Please don’t make leave my bed now._

_Awww. We could do breakfast though?_

And that was just a little too close to something Tim had been thinking about; he and Jason, meeting up for breakfast the morning after patrol—maybe even after a nap… 

A stupid image, born from listening to Dick talk about his relationships too many times. 

_How about brunch? I know a place._

_Course you do. 11?_

_Joey’s Diner on Hamilton Ave?_ The diner was three blocks away from Jason’s main safe house.

 _Hell yeah. It’s a date._

And hooooo, boy. Tim wanted to feel giddy at these words, but only dread welled up. 

The feeling got worse and worse over the next seven hours, peaking when he walked into the diner and saw Jason already sitting at a table. He was wearing a blue shirt and black jeans and fuck, he’d meant it when he called this a date, hadn’t he? 

Tim ignored the urge to leave the country and walked over to Jason’s booth, sliding in opposite him. “Hey.”

“Tim?” Jason frowned. “What are you…” He trailed off as he saw the book in Tim’s hand. 

It was van der Oye’s ‘Russian Orientalism.’ Tim wasn’t sure why he brought it—they hadn’t arranged an identifying mark because Jason had no idea he would need one. 

Maybe it was to remind himself and Jason that not all of it had been a lie. They had really studied together, worked together on the project, discussed books all night, and send cat pictures in the morning. It had really happened. It was _real_. 

“Tommy.” Jason’s voice was flat, his face expressionless. 

“Jason, I’m sorry.” Tim had practiced this in the mirror this morning, clutching his toothbrush as he repeated the word ‘Jason’ so often that it became meaningless. “I signed up for the class with no idea that you had, too, and then I panicked. Didn’t mean to carry on the fake identity as long as I did, but I really liked talking to you. A lot. And I’m sorry.” 

Phew. That had come out semi-coherently. 

Jason looked at him in silence for a long time; long enough that Tim started to hope—maybe he hadn’t fucked it up? Maybe there was still a chance of salvaging their friendship, even if Tim had to apologize every day for the next forty years. 

Then Jason said: “Fuck you,” and walked away. 

Yeah. Tim probably deserved that. 

That was what he told himself when he came home that evening and there were no new messages. It was what he thought when he stared at his pile of notes and tried to ignore the summaries and arguments Jason had sent him. He barely studied for fifteen minutes that night before walking over to the bed and unceremoniously dumping his face in Sluggo’s belly. 

“I could sell you now,” he whispered into the cat’s fur. It would be more practical. Tim wasn’t home enough even for an old grumpy loner like Sluggo. Finding a catsitter for the times Timothy Jackson Wayne Drake or Red Robin had to go out of town had been a pain. Literally. He’d had to resort to asking Damian several times, and that had _hurt_.

Sluggo knew to ignore the threat, though, and with good reason. As if Tim could ever give the little fucker away. 

With a sigh, he blindly started scratching the fur under the cat’s chin and was rewarded with a purr. At least he could make someone happy. He’d go back to studying in a minute or so. Really. 

(He did not.) 

One

“What sources did you use for question four?” 

Tim looked up from where he’d been studying Gotham U’s cafeteria menu. It looked abysmal; he was using it only to keep from looking through his totes for the third time, trying to figure out if he went wrong somewhere. 

“I—Schimmelpennick van der Oye and Tolz,” he replied, almost on autopilot. “I considered Bustanov, but ended up using him as a starting point.” 

Jason snipped his fingers. “Dammit, I knew I’d forgotten a major one. I used van der Oye and Bustanov, but Tolz is better. Urgh.” 

Tim would roll his eyes—he had learned by now that Jason had a tendency to over-criticize his own performance; dude probably got an A+ with extra stars—but that was… probably inappropriate here? 

“It was easier than I expected,” he said instead. 

“Yeah. Old Gabeskiriy really went easy on us there. Still, God help any poor soul that didn’t transliterate or misspelled ‘Khrushchev.’” 

“Hmm.” Tim wasn’t actually sure if he wasn’t one of these poor souls. 

They observed the students in the cafeteria in companionable silence for a minute. 

Finally, Tim couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, no, I gotta ask—are you not mad?” 

“I was.” Jason’s voice was deliberately casual. “That was a real dick move. But also pretty funny in retrospect. Did your cat actually push the laptop off the table when you saw me or was that you panicking?”

“Oh, totally me panicking.” Tim could feel his cheeks burn. “I… I didn’t even own a cat then. Adopted Sluggo later because I couldn’t just take pics from the internet, could I?” 

Jason laughed and told him: “That’s so fucking funny, I can’t even be mad.” 

Tim smiled, too. “Maybe we could try this again, then?” 

“You sure you want that?” Jason’s expression turned serious. “I will not change who I am or what I do.” As Red Hood, Tim presumed. 

“Duh.” 

“Don’t ‘duh’ me, you nerd.” Which was a rich insult coming from _Jason_. 

“I had plenty of time to think about that,” Tim pointed out. 

He wanted all of it. The Jason who was a dead Robin, who was Red Hood, who was an Outlaw and the black sheep of their weird little clan. 

“Are you going to be able to deal with me being who I am? Still working with B?” 

“This is a really stupid conversation to have in the middle of campus,” Jason said—despite being the one who brought it up. “But yeah. Okay. So we’re trying this again. With the masks on, so to speak.” 

“That was bad.” 

“Yeah, yeah, suck it.”

“Whatever, you still wanna be my friend.” 

And Tim was tempted to agree. He really was. It would be easy, and far more than he deserved. However…

“Kind of.” 

Jason frowned. “Kind of? What—”

“So I met this really cute at university,” Tim heard himself say. It was a bit reminiscent of the first time he’d seen Jason in that study group, only this time, he was totally on board with what his brain was doing to him. “Like. He’s the best study buddy ever, but damn, he’s also a looker, and funny and smart, and I’d—” He took a deep breath. “I’d really like to go on a date with him. I think he asked me on one before, but I don’t know if he still wants to.” 

“Oh thank God,” Jason said. “I was wondering if that’s what we’ve been doing.”

Tim laughed, relief coursing through his veins. “Nah, I think it only counts if we both know that that’s happening. And, uh—” 

“Who it’s happening with,” Jason finished for him with a wry smile. “Agreed.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Nope, not accepting any more apologies. Buy me a coffee instead. We just aced this thing and deserve to celebrate.” 

“I can do that.” Tim smiled. 

“…not from this cafeteria, though.” 

“Never. That swill doesn’t even count as coffee, that’s just dishwater. Nah, I was thinking that French place.” 

“It’s a date, then.” Jason winked. “If it goes well, you might still get that cake.”

And, well. Tim had always responded well to clear incentives. 


End file.
